


You, Not Him

by The-Clairvoyant-Rick (MajixTrixx)



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Humiliation, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Beta, Punishment Sex, Rough Sex, Sort of cheating, We Die Like Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 20:43:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18080570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajixTrixx/pseuds/The-Clairvoyant-Rick
Summary: He thought it was too intense before, that he simply couldn't endure the sensations that Rick was forcing through his body, but Morty was wrong. He felt desperate for it now, like he couldn't live without being that high ever again, and when he whined out Rick's name and made a grab for him, the older man seemed to know exactly what he was asking for.





	You, Not Him

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Another You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6408460) by [The-Clairvoyant-Rick (MajixTrixx)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajixTrixx/pseuds/The-Clairvoyant-Rick). 



> Lovelies! Hello! 
> 
> I've been pretty quiet in the fandom since the end of the Big Bang (the hiatus is really getting to me as well x.x) but I'm back with something fabulous! I'm slow going but I don't think I'll ever be entirely out of the game lol 
> 
> A note for this fic: Way back when I was first starting out, I wrote another fic called Another You. It was one of my first multi-chaptered fics in the fandom and really the one that put me on the map. I never finished it, having one last chapter to write, and this was originally supposed to be the ending for that fic. However, I felt that this story got a little emotionally dark in some spots and that it just didn't match the overall tone of the story it was originally intended for. Hence! I tweaked it a bit and wrote it to stand alone. 
> 
> That being said, even if you haven't read Another You, I hope that you'll enjoy this fabulous fic and let me know in the comments(: 
> 
> Thanks again for all your support, my loves! Stay Freaky! 
> 
> Xoxo  
> Clair

Waiting for Rick to follow him back through the portal and into the scientist’s room was probably one of the most nerve wracking things in existence. Morty could feel himself trembling. Adrenaline was flooding through his system, making it hard to stand still and forcing the brunet to pace just to keep his muscles from jumping in terrified anticipation. What had he been thinking? How could he ever have thought that his plan would work? That Rick wouldn’t find out? Rick knew about everything. Rick found out about _everything,_ and it was straight up idiotic to think that this would be any different.

The teen squeezed his eyes shut, his hands balled up into fists at his side. He shouldn't have done it. Rick was practically avoiding him now, not having asked him to tag along on a single adventure since the disastrous kiss in the garage and the drunk, heavy petting session in his room nearly a month ago, but now Rick was sure to replace him. He shouldn't have done it. He should've waited, should've confronted Rick, _anything._ Anything but this.

He should have just stuck to the regular net. Should've met somebody that way instead. That would’ve been easier to explain. At least if Rick had caught him with somebody else, somebody _n_ _ormal,_ he wouldn’t have had to explain it. He could just get mad and take the high road, acting like what he did and with who wasn't any of Rick's business, but no. He had to get be caught fucking a prostitute. Not just any prostitute though, oh no, it had to be another version of Rick. One from the Citadel, because when Morty fucked up he apparently did so in spades. But how exactly was he supposed to explain that?

_Oh yeah, by the way, Rick, I have a major crush on you. When you kissed me and jerked me off the one time I got my hopes and was pretty hurt when you started avoiding me like an emotionally constipated asshole. I needed to blow off some steam so I went behind your back and found a prostitute Rick and pretended that it was you. Isn’t that funny? Oh and, y’know, since you already saw me with your dick in my mouth, you wanna fuck around sometime?_

Morty could've snorted at his own stupidity. Yeah, that’d go over real well.

The teen was about to start pacing once more but froze as a bright green portal suddenly popped into existence just a few feet away from him. Morty’s breath caught in his chest and his heart started fluttering like a fish in a net. He wasn’t ready, wasn't _nearly_ ready to face this. Or Rick. He had no idea what he was supposed to say or how much he should reveal. Rick was going to demand answers, Morty knew that much without a single shadow of doubt, and Morty would have to say something. There was no possible way he’d get out of this without some sort of explanation but, the truth was, Morty didn’t have an explanation. Not one that he could give Rick and have the older man be happy with, not one that would be honest if the boy had any hope of keeping his heart protected.  

The truth wasn't his friend, and that's all he had to offer. 

The blue-haired genius stepped out of the portal with ease. He wore a hard expression, one that was somehow beyond cold indifference, and Morty froze in place all over again. Even without a mirror, he could feel how wide his eyes were, huge and panicked, but before Morty could even open his mouth to offer some sort of opening apology or anything of the sort, Rick was stalking forward. He struck like a snake and grabbed both of Morty's arms, thrusting him backward and slamming his back up against the door. Furious blue eyes glared down into Morty's own from where Rick towered above him and Morty couldn't contain the whimper what fell from his lips.  

"What the _fuck_ do you think you were doing, Morty?" Rick hissed, crowding in even further and making Morty painfully aware of just how small he was.

"I-I — I was... I just wanted to..."

Rick hissed a second time and dug his fingers deeper into Morty's arm, pulling a pained cry from the boy's swollen mouth.

"How fucking dare you give that piece of shit what belongs to me." Morty adopted a confused look. It was taking him a painfully long time to compute the fact that Rick considered his body something that belonged to him but those thoughts were knocked astray when Rick suddenly got up in his face, his lips pulled back in a snarl that made him feel particularly dangerous, even to Morty. "You let that motherfucker touch you, Morty? Let him put his dick inside you? You let him see you _come,_ Morty?"

Shame poured through Morty in thick, heavy waves that threatened to choke him and, even though Rick already knew the answer, he nodded anyway.

"You'll answer me when I — when I talk to you, Morty."

There were still drying tear tracks staining Morty's face from earlier. They were making his skin tight and uncomfortable as it was. That didn't get any better when his eyes flooded with a new wave of tears just threatening to spill over, but Morty refused to let them fall. He'd choke on them before he invoked Rick's pity with his cry baby nature.

"Y-yes. I let him — I let him do those things." Morty choked out.

Rick released one of his arms and made a grab for his throat instead. With how furious and intimidating Rick was being, he should've been afraid. Morty should've been panicking at the knowledge that Rick could strangle the life out of him for being such an idiot but he wasn't. It felt more comfortable and appealing than Morty wanted to admit, certainly more appealing than when the other Rick grabbed him there, and Morty tried not to let his traitorous mind take it to a sexual place while Rick was obviously so furious with him.

Rick gave his throat a little squeeze, reaffirming his dominance over the situation — which did absolutely nothing to help Morty's growing interest in the face of Rick's possessive attitude — and held Morty firmly to the door. "And why did you let that piece of shit Rick touch you? Huh, Morty?"

The teen hiccuped out a quiet sob and shook his head but Rick didn't bend.

_"Why, Morty?"_

"B-b-because I wanted — I wanted _you,_ Rick!" Morty broke, trembling against the door and trying to look away as best as he could.

The pressure around his other arm disappeared and Morty squeaked when Rick pinched his chin. The older man's grip wasn't gentle as he forced Morty to look at him and Rick growled when Morty tried to dart his gaze away, affectively dragging the boy's attention right back to him.

"I'm right fucking here, Morty."

The sound of Morty's hiccupped out sounds reached a new level of pitiful at that. Knowing he could've had Rick, _his Rick,_ that he gave up his virginity to a look alike when he could've had the real thing — it broke Morty's heart. It made him feel small, so fucking small, and he desperately wished he could take it back, but he'd been confused. He thought Rick was disgusted by him. Or maybe just disgusted in himself for touching his underage grandson at all. He'd avoided him, after all. Supremely ignored him to the point where even their oblivious-as-fuck family couldn't miss it. He'd honestly thought Rick was going to get rid of him just to so he didn’t have to deal with the fucked up situation they stumbled into. That or maybe he'd erase all memory of what happened one night while he was asleep. But he'd _wanted._ Morty wanted Rick, wanted to feel it and know what it felt like to be wanted by the person he apparently loved and he _fucked up._

Morty wished Rick wasn't so angry at him, that he wasn't snarling and demanding answers and making Morty feel like the scum of the Earth. He wished that he wouldn't have been so quick to jump the gun and tarnish something that could never be made right and, when Morty looked up at Rick, there was an apology in his eyes.

He didn't know what to say, didn't know what he _could_ say. Not about this. But before he could try and find the words to express how sorry he was, Rick was kissing him.

And it _hurt._

Rick's mouth was _possessing_ him. The older man bullied his way past Morty's lips. He lashed at Morty's tongue with his own, forced the teen into submission as they kissed, and when Rick started to get even more aggressive, nipping and biting and sucking at his lips until they bled, Morty took it. He whined and gasped and cried out at the pain, squirming in Rick's grasp as the older man plundered his mouth with the sort of mercilessness that he'd rarely seen outside of their adventures, but he didn't offer a single complaint. He never told Rick to stop. Never told Rick he was hurting him. Never said he didn't like it. He simply took the kiss as the punishment it seemed to be, letting Rick inflict pain on him, letting Rick _possess_ him as the only apology he could possibly offer.

When Rick finally broke away, Morty gulped down air like it was going out of style. He was panting against the door, forced to feel Rick's grasp on his throat with every breath, and he knew it wasn't over. There was a hunger in Rick's eyes as the genius glared down at him, one full of darkness and demand, and Morty knew that a single kiss wasn't nearly enough to make up for what he'd done.

"On the bed, Morty. Hands and knees." He ordered.

Morty nodded in understanding and shivered when Rick released the hold on his throat. Possessive eyes darted to the exposed column and darkened even further at whatever they saw there. Rick didn't look any more angry than he already did — thank whatever god might be out there — but the focus in his gaze made Morty want to whine. It was almost like he could feel it, like Rick's gaze was crawling under his skin and making a home for itself there, and Morty's legs nearly buckled when Rick suddenly made eye contact and licked the blood from his lips.

"Bed, Morty. _Now."_

The teen scrambled to obey. He nearly tripped and fell trying to get to there and, when he assumed the position Rick wanted, a wave of self consciousness took him by storm. He was still naked. Still slick with sweat. Still loose and open with lube smeared around his hole, still covered in another Rick's _come,_ and there was nothing he could do to hide it. Morty hung his head and tried to hold himself together as he clenched Rick's flimsy blanket in his fists. He tried not to show how upset and self conscious he was, tried not to hyperventilate while his body was on display and unable to hide his shaky muscles, but he still felt beyond vulnerable.

That feeling didn't go away when Rick approached. It just got worse.

A warm, confident hand reached out to stroke Morty's flank and he whined like an animal at the meager amount of comfort. The moment he did, Rick took his hand back and Morty swallowed down another sob as he waited for whatever was to come.

Unlike him, Rick was still mostly clothed but Morty could hear the rustle of material as he stripped out of his lab coat and shirt. Maybe his pants too. Morty tried to look over at his grandpa but he was quickly stopped when Rick's fingers grabbed a handful of his hair and pushed his face back down toward the bed.

"I don't think so, Morty." Rick said gruffly. "Eyes down until I say so."

"But Rick —"

Morty's words were replaced with a sharp cry when Rick reached out and gave his ass a swat. The unexpected bloom of pain stole Morty's breath and his hole clenched as it continued to radiate across his nerve endings.

"Unless I'm speaking to you, or you're moaning for me like the slutty bitch you are, I don't wanna hear a single fucking word come out of your mouth." Rick said.

There was no room for refusal in his grandpa's tone, so Morty just nodded with a quiet sniffle, trying not to come apart when Rick rewarded his obedience with another touch to his side. Rick still cared about him. Morty _knew_ it, he could feel it, and he knew Rick would never actually hurt him. The older man was laying claim to him somehow, taking back what he saw as his property through a firm tone and possessive actions, and it was intimidating for sure, but Morty knew Rick wouldn't harm him.

Hurt, maybe, hut not harm.

A quiet, breathy sound came from behind him and Morty desperately wanted to look but he kept his eyes down, just like Rick said. He didn't ask and didn't try to peek. He just stared down at Rick's cot, even when he felt the thing dip behind him.

Rick didn't do anything for what felt like forever and, even with the fear of how Rick might punish him next, Morty started to get antsy. He felt exposed. He was vulnerable and upset at what he'd done and so fucking ashamed to be seen like this by Rick when all he wanted to do was wash it all away and apologize until he was blue in the face. Whatever Rick was doing to him, it was a punishment. It had to be. One fueled by selfish possession and a deep seated anger toward anyone that touched what Rick considered his without asking but, even still, Morty was responding to it.

His cock was already starting to get hard again. Hanging down between his spread legs, Morty could feel it the moment he started to respond to what was happening, aroused by Rick's presence even though his grandpa was angry with him, and it seemed like he hadn't been the only one to notice.

Morty gasped when the tip of Rick's dick was suddenly pressed up against the loosened ring of his asshole, threatening to penetrate at any moment. "You feel that, baby?"

Rick pushed forward a little, applying pressure, and Morty gasped, subtly pushing his hips back toward it only to whine in disappointment when Rick backed off.

"Such a — a cock hungry little slut. You already got fucked once and it just wasn't enough, was it, baby?"

Morty felt pathetic as he shook his head no but he still did it anyway. That's what Rick wanted, afterall, for him to respond. No matter how humiliating. And even though that wasn't really Morty's jam most of the time, he submitted to it eagerly. It felt right, that Rick should have this power over him, that he should do whatever, say whatever, if it meant Rick would forgive him. And really, even if that _wasn't_ the case, Morty knew that he would've let it happen anyway.

He _wanted_ Rick. He wanted to feel his touch and know what it meant to have his attention, to feel that powerful body overtop of him, _inside of him,_ and Morty knew he would've done whatever Rick wanted just to have a taste of it. He liked it when the other Rick was rough with him. He'd liked the furious, burning jealousy in Rick's eyes when he'd stepped through that portal and saw them together. He wanted _Rick;_ cruel, possessive, vicious, utterly unpredictable Rick.

As if Rick could sense his thoughts, the old man snickered. It felt demeaning, like Rick was taking amusement from his desperation, but Morty just clenched the blankets tighter in his hands.

"It's a good thing you're fucked open a-and covered with lube." Rick said with a dark, amused tone.

The teen opened his mouth to ask why but all that came out was a shriek of agonized pleasure when Rick thrust forward and slammed the entirety of his cock inside Morty's ass. It didn't matter that he'd been fucked less than thirty minutes ago, it didn't even matter that he was slippery and practically leaking lube like slick from a girl. What mattered was that he was being split in _half._ Rick's cock felt monstrous inside of him, like it was jabbing at his organs and rearranging them inside of his body, and all Morty could do was scream as Rick adopted a brutal pace and started fucking him right off the bat.

It was intense, more so than anything he'd ever felt in his life, and Morty was sure he'd have rug burn marks on his knees from where Rick's merciless thrusts kept inching him up the cot. He was eventually forced to relinquish his hold on the blanket and plaster both palms on the wall in front of him, using the leverage to keep from being mashed up against it as Rick chased after him, pummeling his ass for all he was worth.

Morty sounded like he was being killed, and maybe he was. He should've been concerned with his parents hearing him and bursting in on this fucked up, incestuous moment but there wasn't any room in his brain for Morty to think or reason. Rick's cock was filling him up in ways that the hired Rick simply hadn't. He hadn't imagined that their cocks would be all that different considering they were both Ricks but, with his own Rick slamming in and out of him like a crazed animal, growling for him and gripping his hips until it felt like they'd crumble to dust under his hands, Morty couldn't deny that the two were _nothing_ alike.

To Morty's surprise, the pain didn't last nearly as long as he thought it would. After a dozen or so thrusts, Morty's body seemed to get with the program. His hole still felt like it was clenched hard enough to strangle Rick's dick but suddenly Morty's cries had a lot less to do with pain alone and more to do with the way Rick's fat cock was dragging against his rim and the jolting pleasure those strokes were forcing through his body. It took him off guard, but Morty wasn't looking to complain about it. He barely had the brain power to marvel at the difference. All he could do was hold himself against the wall and attempt to screech himself hoarse as Rick pumped in and out of him at what felt like an inhuman pace.

It was twisting Morty up in a knot he couldn't untangle. The pleasure was rising, choking him with its intensity, and by the time Rick tightened the hold on his hips and abandoned speed for power and depth, Morty's cock was hard as a rock and making a mess of Rick's blankets. It felt like he couldn't fucking _breathe,_ like every thrust was stealing the air from his lungs, making his chest hot and tight with the sort of clawing desperation that only came with oxygen deprivation, but Morty knew that wasn't it. He was panting hard, drawing in big gulps of air between cries, and his lungs definitely weren't the issue.

He needed to _come._

Rick was taking him higher and higher, building him up to that crest with rough, brutal strokes, and Morty couldn't handle what his partner was dishing out. It was too intense, too deep, too   _much._ He was sure he'd shatter apart any minute if he didn't do something.

Without thinking about the potential consequence, one of Morty's hands dropped down between his legs and he took himself in hand with a needy cry. The pleasure of finally having his aching dick touched after the pounding Rick was giving him was beyond bliss and Morty's hand started to fly up and down his length. It was perfect, so fucking perfect, and he was going to come all over Rick's bed and he'd finally —

Morty howled with frustration when Rick grabbed his wrist and wrenched his hand away from his dick, jerking the offending limb behind his back and forcing Morty to balance against the wall using one hand and the side of his face.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Morty?" His grandpa demanded, singling out his prostate and nailing it until Morty was screaming under the abuse.

"I need to come!" Morty howled in confession. "I can't take it, Rick, please! I need it! _I need it!"_

The older man sneered behind him and swung his hips forward especially rough, pulling a choked gasp from Morty when it drove his dick in painfully deep.

"You don't need it, Morty. You _want it,_ but guess what, baby? You're not gonna come until _Grandpa_ decides you need it. You're a greedy little slut Morty and I think you've made enough fucking decisions for one day."

The devastated whine that escaped his lips barely sounded human, even to Morty. A condescending chuckle sounded behind him and Morty couldn't tell if the shiver that raced up his spine was from the fear or anticipation, but when Rick pulled his hips back and held on tight, getting ready to wreck him him once more, Morty broke down with a choked out plea for Rick to stop.

He'd only needed an extra minute but time sat suspended in a still moment of silence, broken only by the rough, ragged breaths between them, and it took Morty an embarrassingly long time to realize that _he'd_ done that. He asked Rick to stop, and he _did._ Rick was a bastard, he knew, but there was a limit to how far that went. There were, apparently, some things even Rick wouldn't do, and the knowledge that he'd stopped when Morty told him to — even though he was furious and primal and ready to viciously mark his territory. Even though Morty was hard and desperate and half fucked out already — was too much for Morty's emotionally damaged heart to handle.

In seconds, Morty was bawling. His body was wracked with sobs, trembling and shaking like a leaf in an unforgivable storm, and even the embarrassment he felt over being so weak in front of Rick wasn't enough to make it stop. Or even to distract him. He felt unworthy. _So unworthy._ He deserved Rick's anger. He deserved anything the older man chose to dish out, and it hurt to acknowledge that he simply couldn't take it the way Rick wanted.

Morty sucked in a sharp, startled breath when a surprisingly gentle hand trailed up his side. It felt so foreign, that gentle touch in the midst of such a violent claiming, and Morty was lost to it. For a split second, Morty forgot why he was crying. He forgot that there was even a _reason_ to cry, and when those fingers buried themselves in his curls and carefully tugged his head back, exposing his throat and peeling his face off the wall, Morty went with it willingly.

"Talk to me, Morty."

Those words nearly broke him all over again. They were firm and assertive, but it wasn't a demand. Even with how deep Rick's voice was, the older man was still asking him, still _waiting_ for him. Up until that point, the teen hadn't known just how badly he needed that distinction.

"I-I-it's — it's too much, Rick," Morty miserably confessed, feeling droplets of water — maybe tears and maybe sweat — gliding down the front of his throat.

Rick loosened his hold on the boy's curls and brushed his thumb back and forth along Morty's hip, drawing another wrecked sound from the teen's lips. "What's too much, Morty?"

Morty shook his head, not wanting to explain himself, but Rick's grip on his hair tightened right back up and he let out a small squeak when Rick tugged his head back just a little too far.

"Answer me." He growled, "What's too much?"

It wasn't a surprise to either of them when Morty started to cave.

"The way you're fucking me." He whispered.

There was more to it than that, and Rick seemed to sense that as well because a moment later the older man was releasing his hip to run a frustrated hand through his own hair. Morty could feel his irritation in the space around them. He could feel just how little control Rick really had, and he knew how easy it would've been for his grandpa to throw it all away and just keep going, fucking the anger and regret out of both of them. Knowing that, and knowing Rick wouldn't, made Morty's heart swell, and suddenly the words and feelings clogging up his throat couldn't get out fast enough.

"I d-deserve this!" Morty wailed, startling the man behind him. "I — I fucked up a-a-and let that other Rick t-t-touch me a-and fuck me and that should have been for you! But I was dumb a-and I gave it — gave it away because I wanted you so bad and you were ignoring me and I was — I was _weak_ and now we're here a-and you're so _angry.”_ Rick's fingers went slack in his hair and Morty dropped his head forward, pressing his forehead back up against the wall as he forced himself to keep speaking, even though it made him feel more vulnerable and exposed than he ever could've imagined. "I deserve this, Rick. I'm so — so _stupid,_ and I deserve this, but it hurts and y-y-you're going so fast and hard a-and — and not letting me look at you and I can't take it."

"I'm sorry." Morty pitifully apologized. "So, so sorry."

Rick was silent as the grave behind him, not moving, not saying a word, and Morty wanted nothing more than to just take it all back and beg Rick to keep going if it meant the horrible feeling crushing his chest would go away when it was all over. He hadn't outright said it — hadn't told Rick that this wasn't how he imagined their first time together and that it hurt that this was how he'd always remember it — but Morty had a feeling that he knew. Rick always seemed to know, in one way or another, and Morty wasn't sure whether that was supposed to be a comfort or another reason for him to start crying.

An unexpected grunt escaped the brunet's lips when Rick pulled out of him without warning and Morty was on the verge of protesting when Rick suddenly grabbed him and flipped him into his back. The maneuver was too quick and complicated for his tangled up brain to have any hope of recognizing, and Morty couldn't figure out why he'd been moved in the first place, but none of that mattered when he opened his eyes and saw Rick above him.

He was like a living, breathing statue; solid and unyielding, looking down at him with a piercing gaze and an expression that was neither smile nor frown. It froze Morty in place. He'd imagined this so many times alone in his room, Rick towering over him, pinning him with a stare while they both panted with lust and exertion, but he hadn't _known_ . Morty hadn't known it would be like this. He'd never imagined Rick with such a straight spine. He'd never imagined what it'd look like to see Rick's hair plastered to his forehead, or to see his normally pale face so flushed, or how his eyes could look contained and yet still so _wild_ and aggressive.

Morty couldn't stop the way his gaze followed after the droplets of sweat rolling down Rick's torso. He envied them, getting to glide down Rick's body so intimately, and Morty nearly lost himself to a fantasy of having that exact privilege when his eyes landed on the scar that'd started it all.

He'd nearly died. The smartest man in the universe nearly died trying to save him, taking a Yautja blade straight to the gut and fighting on to protect them both. It'd been impossible to stay silent after that. It'd taken days for him to work up the courage to approach Rick in the garage, but that'd been it, the thing that took his confusing feelings to a place he could no longer ignore.

His breathing sped up as he stared at it. Morty wasn't sure whether or not Rick grasped the scars significance to him, probably not, but the older man was staring down at it just the same.

There was a tremor in Morty's hand when he reached for Rick and, as the older man watched him, Morty desperately wished that he knew what Rick was thinking. It felt ridiculous to have so little control over his own body, to be _trembling,_ but Rick was _right there_ and he was finally allowed to touch. The man felt like a predator, like he was some wild cat indulging him and letting Morty get close to petting him before inevitably ripping his hand to shreds, but when the teen's fingertips met the smooth, shiny skin of the sunburst scar, Morty _moaned._

The sound dragged itself from the pit of his heart like an act of God and suddenly Rick was on him.

He took that sound for himself, crashing their mouths together and swallowing it like a hungry demon after the human soul. And that's what it felt like. As Rick ravaged his mouth, claiming it with every lick and bite and shared sound between them, it felt like Rick was demanding the very core of what he was and Morty could do nothing but offer it to him with both hands.

A choked out yes between them was all it took for Rick to push back inside of him and Morty _keened_ . The angle was so different, filling him in a way it simply hadn't while he was on his hands and knees, and Morty wanted _more._ He didn't hesitate to arch his hips from the bed, pushing back harder and harder against Rick's surprisingly steady strokes, but it wasn't nearly enough.

He'd thought it was too intense before, that he simply couldn't endure the bliss that Rick was forcing through his body, but Morty was _wrong._ He felt desperate for it now, like he couldn't live without being that high ever again, and when he whined out Rick's name and made a grab for him, the older man seemed to know exactly what he was asking for. Merciless fingers grasped both of Morty's hips and the brunet whined as Rick wrenched his ass higher off the bed. It felt like he was pressing his very fingerprints into the curve of his bones, like if Rick held him any tighter his pelvis would crumble to dust, but then Rick was pulling him down to meet him stroke for stroke and suddenly Morty didn't give a fuck if Rick _did_ break his bones.

It was _divine._

Morty was a mess. He'd never considered himself much of a screamer — he'd certainly never been all that loud on his own — but he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Rick was slamming in and out of him, fast and persistent, just the way he apparently liked, and Morty was starting to lose his ability to stay still. It was just too _good._

And there was so much more to feast on now.

Rick was so much more than he'd ever expected. His fantasies paled in comparison to seeing Rick above him, caging him in, holding him tight, the muscles in his arms and core taut and flexing with every sharp, merciless thrust forward as he stared right through him with those breathtakingly predatory eyes. He'd never known Rick would be so rough, or that he'd like it as much as he did. His fantasies never provided the scent of sweat or the low, threatening growls or the way Rick's lips thinned almost to the point of disappearing when they were pulled back in a snarl. He'd imagined smirks and rude words and for their time together to be filthy with dirty talk and bodily fluids and enough begging to made his throat ache but he'd never once envisioned Rick _owning_ him. He never could've imagined how it'd feel to have Rick so deep inside of him that it felt like he was choking. He never could've imagined how it felt for Rick to look at him that intently or what it'd feel like to whimper and whine and squirm needlessly while Rick took him to another universe through touch alone.

Morty was restless beneath his grandfather, writhing against the sheets and trying his best to push back against Rick's movements. He couldn't stop tipping his head back. Couldn't stop baring his throat and arching up from the bed and doing everything he could to gravitate towards Rick's energy like a planet caught in orbit around a star. Rick was the gravity holding him down and the momentum based force dragging him to impossible heights. He was the dark and the light and the beginning and the end and Morty was losing his fucking _mind._

An impossibly hot palm settled over Morty's collar and his eyes flew open with a gasp. He wasn't sure when he'd closed them, or when he'd started holding his breath for that matter, but both of those fleeting thoughts vacated his half melted brain in a hurry when Rick applied pressure and shoved his arched body right back down to the cot. It took Morty's breath away. Rick was so wirey, so thin and lean and somewhat unassuming but he was so fucking _strong._ He'd seen Rick do the impossible in their time together, and feeling the older man use that strength now to hold him down and force him to endure what was being given to him, it made Morty feel like he was somehow on death’s door even though he'd never felt more alive.

Morty started to chant Rick's name. He was jolting under his touch, squirming even though Rick was holding him down with so much more ease than he should possibly possess, and the teen didn't think it could possibly get any better.

Which of course meant that Rick had to prove him wrong.

The brunet yelped when Rick suddenly dropped his ass back down to the bed. He wasn't sure what he'd expected in that moment but, when Rick chased right on after him, pounding into him like a goddamn machine as he buried his face in Morty's neck and started to ravage the soft, sensitive flesh there, Morty physically felt the remaining portion of his brain turn to mush. There was no room to think when Rick was growling right next to his vulnerable throat, sucking hard and deep at random spots between jarring bites.

In the state he was in, it took Morty quite some time to realize that Rick was targeting the hickies the other Rick must have left behind. He was biting into spots that were already sore, laying a much deeper, much more savage claim to the footprints left behind in his territory, and Morty was going crazy for it. He felt like an animal in heat, keening and crying out under Rick's mouth as the older man laid such possessive claim to his body. It felt better than anything he'd ever experienced and Morty couldn't get enough of it.

Thin, powerful legs wrapped around Rick's hips and Morty dug his heels into the back of Rick's thighs, spurning him on with sounds of encouragement. With one hand buried in Rick's hair and the other grabbing his shoulder and holding on for dear life, Morty felt like he was wrapped around a force of nature. It was almost like he was trying to hold back a hurricane or trying to stop the unfathomable power of an erupting volcano. Rick barely felt human in his arms. Morty himself barely felt human under Rick's body.

After a while, Morty was forced into mind boggling silence as Rick pushed him to the very limit. His eyes were open wide, his lips parted in a silent scream as Rick worked his body past what any normal person should be able to take, but he quickly found his voice once more when Rick drove his hips forward in a single, brutal thrust, burying himself impossibly deep and pulling a guttural cry from Morty's lips.

He did it again, and again, fucking him slow but so impossibly deep one thrust at a time, and Morty couldn't stop the overwhelmed tears that started leaking from the corners of his eyes.

Which was when Rick stilled with a growl.

The sound that escaped Morty verged on the edge of betrayal and, if the dark grin spreading across Rick's face was anything to go off of, his partner enjoyed that immensely.

"Tell me, Morty." Rick panted, trailing his hot, slick tongue up after a droplet of sweat running down his throat.

Morty squirmed beneath him and clung helplessly to Rick, trying to get him to move as he whined. "Your cock..!"

"Hmm? What about it? You'll have to speak up, Morty. I want to _hear_ you."

Morty was a mess and he was glad Rick couldn’t see. His hair was all over, his face flushed from the sex and from crying, his eyes wet and puffy and his nose slightly snotty, and when Rick demanded he beg, all of that amplified. Morty broke. He hiccuped out a little sob and reached desperately for Rick, grabbing his back and wrapping his arms and legs around him.

"P-p-please! I need — I need your c-cock, Rick.” He begged, “I need it so — so, so bad. I need _you,_ Rick, please. What — whatever you w-want, Rick, please."

Even though he couldn’t see it, wild look in Rick's eyes grew until it seemed to eclipse everything and Rick _attacked_ him.

His grandpa was right back to growls and snarls and biting teeth and Morty _shrieked_ as the older man pulled back and swung his hips forward, burying his length back inside if him and adopting the same brutal pace as before. Rick felt out of control, like his words had done something, broken something, and all Morty could do was hold on for dear life as Rick drove into him like a man possessed.

"Mine!" He demanded. "Say it, Morty! Say you're mine!"

"Yours!" He choked, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his nails deeper into Rick’s back. "Yours, Rick!"

"Only mine!"

"Only yours!"

One of Rick's hands was immediately shoved between their bodies and Morty jolted like he'd electrocuted when Rick grabbed hold of his cock and started jerking him off. It was too tight, too rough, lacking rhythm or consistent speed, but it threw Morty over the edge so fast that he didn't even have time to ready himself for the tsunami of pleasure slamming into him, sweeping him up and throwing him every which way as he tried to break the surface simply to breathe. Morty wasn't sure if he screamed or not, he wasn't sure of anything, all he knew was that he was thrashing and simultaneously clinging to Rick and trying to shove him away. He was completely out of control as he crested and Morty had just enough awareness to recognize Rick's howl and the wonderful sensation of filled to the brim with hot, slippery liquid.

The world was muted after that. His ears were ringing, stuffed with wet cotton, and his body was wracked with tremors he couldn't control. Morty's eyes glazed over and he went limp beneath Rick's body as he reacquainted himself with the simple luxury of being able to breathe. Rick was speaking to him. Morty could hear it, but he couldn't understand what the other was saying. The words were muffled and part of him wondered if Rick was even speaking English. A light slap to the face sent his world tumbling in a different direction but he'd taken much worse and Morty wasn't phased. He simply mumbled out some sort of something and went back to being lost.

An influx of warmth was unexpectedly wrapped around him and Morty curled into it like a lifeline. He murmured happily as long, nimble fingers carded through his curls and he quickly buried his face into what he sluggishly decided was probably Rick's neck.

"You're mine, Morty."

The words were still far away, but they were in English at least and Morty wasn't so far gone that he couldn't understand them. More than that, he agreed, and he nodded in acceptance as he clung to Rick and tried to remember how to communicate back.

"Yours, Rick," He finally slurred, "Only yours."

Uncoordinated fingers reached for the other man and, when Morty found the sunburst scar on Rick's abdomen, he settled in and relaxed even further with a soft moan.

They'd have to talk, he knew, but for now it was enough, and Morty let himself be carried away on the floaty feeling that wrapped him up like a blanket. Rick was there and Morty knew he'd be safe.

After all, Rick had the scar to prove it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm adding this fic to the Sin Corps collection! I'm really stoked to be part of the group and able to contribute to their infamous goal of adding more sin to the world lol They're awesome and, if you feel like joining, you can find them on Discord at https://discord.gg/dYQ5zVa
> 
> As a secondary note! I'm also on Discord! You can always find me there under The-Clairvoyant-Rick#2373


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